


Remember, Remember, Our Last November

by EchoResonance



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 10:06:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7886977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EchoResonance/pseuds/EchoResonance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rings are used to signify any number of things. They're used to display social status, to declare one's education, and as simple decoration. They're used to bind people in love for life.<br/>They're used as promises.<br/>It wasn't just his time on the Galra ship that Shiro had forgotten, but Keith wasn't going to be the one to try to bring those memories back if they were gone. He would go along like nothing had changed because for Shiro, nothing had, and the ring he wore around his neck gleamed, polished from him constantly worrying it between his fingers.</p><p>(Inspired by this asshole's beautifully upsetting post, found here: http://thingswhatareawesome.tumblr.com/post/149464855506/thingswhatareawesome-oh-thought-my-brain )</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_ “I’ll be back before you know it.” _

_ “Right.” _

_ “Keith.” _

_ “Mm?” _

_ “Don’t worry so much. It’s going to be fine.” _

_ “Of course it is.” _

_ “It’s just a mission to collect some space ice. You won’t even have time to miss me.” _

_ “Who said I was gonna miss you?” _

_ “Alright, alright. Well, it’s almost time.” _

_ “Yeah.” _

_ “What, no good luck? No hug?” _

_ “Good luck. You can get the hug when you come back.” _

_ “I’ll take it. And Keith?” _

_ “Yeah?” _

_ “I’ll come back. I promise.” _

 

Keith knew better than to take promises to heart. He learned a long time ago that it was pointless and all it did was pave the way for more heartbreak. Still, he had allowed himself to believe Shiro when he said he would come back. He  _ had _ to believe Shiro. Shiro, who had never lied to him before. Shiro, who made him feel real and accepted for the first time in his life. Shiro, who recognized potential in Keith and drove him to succeed, encouraged him when others rolled their eyes and congratulated him when he exceeded expectations. He had to believe in Shiro, because he’d done the same for Keith.

And he’d paid quite dearly for that faith.

When the Kerberos mission failed, Keith felt like he was falling. When the people on the mission were reported dead, it was as if he’d landed flat on the pavement. He was lost. He was scared. He was in pain. The one person who had believed in him, who had seen him as something besides good test scores and natural talent, was gone. The only person who had ever treated him fairly, who hadn’t pitied him for being an orphan, vanished in smoke. Alone in his bunk Keith had cried. He’d cried and screamed into his pillow and when at last the tears had ebbed he found that more than anything else, more than sad or lonely or scared, he was angry. Angry at the Garrison for allowing this to happen, angry at himself for not fighting harder to join the mission, angry at Shiro for abandoning him like so many others had, angry at the world for taking away the one stable piece he’d managed to tack on to his life.

He was busted for sneaking into the senior cadets’ quarters to swipe some of Shiro’s clothes before they were removed. He got in trouble for his short temper during practice sims. He was punished for openly, blatantly, impudently challenging leading officers’ commands and explanations. He was reprimanded for wearing Shiro’s promise on a chain around his neck against dress code regulations.

Ultimately, he was kicked out of the Garrison. Which, fine, he didn’t care anymore. He’d only stuck around in the first place because of Shiro. He wasn’t going to miss the lies and the power plays and the obnoxious kid that was always looking at him weird from across the room. He didn’t care if he was a prodigy pilot or was a good test-taker or a natural hand-to-hand combatant. Never in his life had he felt special because of those things, so losing that credit was no real loss at all. What  _ had _ made him feel different, important even, was just as lost, however.

And when somehow, miraculously, that thing had come back to Keith, it hadn’t come back complete. Shiro remembered him enough to light up when he saw him, but he didn’t remember _them_. He remembered Keith as the friend he had been, but that was all. And it had crushed Keith a little all over again.

Normally, Keith trained so that he didn’t  _ have _ to think about these things.

The training bot sent Keith flying backwards. His sword skittered from his hand as he slammed flat against the floor, the wind knocked out of him. Not waiting to recover, he rolled to the side and lunged toward the bot’s legs, shouldering it at the knees and sending it toppling to the floor. Wheezing, Keith sprang to his feet and dived for his sword. His fingers closed on the hilt and he whipped it around in time to block the blow from the bot. He slid in close, locked the hilts of their weapons, and with a quick twist, disarmed the bot. A quick upward slash and the training session was over.

Panting, Keith straightened up, hand going briefly to the cord around his neck. It had fallen out of his shirt at some point during training--the ring had clipped him in the jaw, damnit--and he hastily tucked it back in. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to wear it when fighting, but...

“Well that did a whole lot of nothing,” Keith grumbled to himself, raking a hand through his hair.

He felt just as on-edge and frustrated as when he’d stomped onto the platform, only now he was also tired and drenched in sweat. Resigning himself to another sleepless, irritable night, Keith stowed his bayard and turned to leave, only to come to a screeching halt as someone else entered.

“Keith?” Shiro said, blinking in surprise. “What are you still doing here?”

“Training,” Keith answered with a frown. “What else would I be doing?”

Shiro’s lips twitched, but the smile didn’t last.

“Right.”

The crease in Keith’s brow deepened. There were shadows under Shiro’s eyes, and his shoulders sagged far lower than his usual stoic demeanor would allow. Keith crossed the floor to him and settled a hand on his shoulder. Shiro glanced down at it, then covered it with his own.

“Why are  _ you _ here?” Keith asked, tilting his head. Shiro’s eyes flicked away.

“Training?” he tried. Keith arched an eyebrow and he sighed. “Couldn’t sleep. Every time I’m close…”

“Nightmares?” Keith guessed.

Shiro nodded mutely. His eyes, that striking gunmetal grey that could be on the unnerving side of intense, were shadowed. Without a word Keith stepped closer, wrapping an arm around his friend. Past the point where Shiro would have been surprised by the act, the taller boy just let out a shaky breath and dropped his forehead onto Keith’s shoulder. He didn’t cry. Didn’t yell, or curse, or really lose his temper in any way. He just stood there, leaning into Keith, breathing in and out without any rhythm and allowing himself a moment of weakness.

Even in the Garrison, Keith had prided himself on being the only one that Shiro would confide in and that could actually calm Shiro down if he was upset. Of course Shiro had plenty of friends, and he’d had even more admirers, but there was a certain distance Shiro had kept between them. To younger cadets, those who idolized him, he had to present the best parts of himself, had to be strong and respectful and cool under pressure. Even within his own circle of friends Shiro had been the leader. Everyone went to him for help and advice, leaning on his shoulders and borrowing his strength. Only with Keith had Shiro made an exception.

He didn’t know why, and he didn’t think Shiro really understood either, but the Garrison’s golden boy trusted the talented problem child. When he was tired or stressed, he could express it without concern for what Keith would think of him afterwards. Keith was the first person to treat him as an equal because coming from his background titles meant nothing and a person was simply a person. Shiro had appreciated that. Had appreciated Keith.

At least that hadn’t changed. Even if they were no longer as close as they had been and even if Keith both feared and resented the feelings that persisted, he was glad he could support Shiro. If all he ever was again was a shoulder for Shiro to lean on, then that was what he would be. And it wouldn’t be enough, but it would be better than nothing at all.

“Keith?”

“Yeah, buddy?”

Shiro said nothing, but curled one hand in the front of Keith’s t-shirt to pull him closer. Once Keith stepped in, Shiro wrapped an arm around his waist, still hiding his face.

“Shiro?” Keith prompted, biting his lip before setting his chin on Shiro’s shoulder. “What’s up?”

“I...don’t know,” Shiro mumbled. “I wanted to say something...but I don’t know what it was.”

Keith closed his eyes. With a sigh he wrapped both arms around Shiro in a proper hug, squeezing slightly but mostly just holding him. Cold metal pressed uncomfortably against his skin beneath his t-shirt, but he ignored it.

“Do you wanna spar for a bit?” he asked.

“Keith, you’re already exhausted,” Shiro pointed out, pulling back to look over his disheveled state.

Keith smirked.

“So it’ll be almost even,” he taunted.

Shiro shook his head, the hint of a smile touching his mouth again. Keith’s heart stuttered.

“You should get some rest,” Shiro said.

“So should you,” Keith pointed out, stepping away from Shiro and moving back toward the center of the room. “Come on, Black Paladin. Unless you’re scared you’ll get your butt kicked?”

A chuckle escaped Shiro and his smile grew. With a defeated sigh he followed Keith out onto the platform. Smirk still in place, Keith turned to face him, already knowing that his chances of beating Shiro were slim to none but ready to count this venture a success simply because he’d gotten Shiro out of his own head. Any time he made Shiro smile was a success in his book.


	2. Chapter 2

“This is bad,” Shiro muttered as they all worked to strip off Keith’s battered armor. “This is really bad.”

“Shiro, all he needs is a healing pod,” Allura said, although she didn’t sound too sure herself. “He--he will be fine.”

Boots came off, then the tattered remains of his armor; the gloves, the pauldrons, the gauntlets. All of it was yanked away, the five of them working to remove it as quickly as they could because with every second, Keith’s breathing weakened. He was only semi-conscious, his eyes only partially open and glazed with pain, shifting in and out of focus. 

Looking at him, Shiro felt like it was him who couldn’t breath. There was a tightness in his chest that he couldn’t relieve by loosening his uniform and a shakiness to his fingers that made them nearly useless. Once the bulky pieces of the armor were gone, Shiro didn’t retain the dexterity to handle the finer pieces, the little clasps and the fitted undersuit, and Allura brushed him aside impatiently, nimble fingers flying. Shiro sat back, alternating between watching the others help Keith and glaring down at his hands in his lap, his useless hands, only one of them truly his and the other a piece of technology from the very enemy they were fighting to stop.

If he let his mind wander from the task at hand for even a moment, Shiro saw Keith leaping in front of him, no sword raised and no shield activated, to take the attack aimed for the leader. Left with nothing to do, nothing to distract himself, Shiro remembered Keith’s savage yell, cursing and hissing that he wasn’t about to lose Shiro  _ again _ . He could still hear the cry of pain as the blast hit Keith full in the chest, could still hear his body falling to the ground, unmoving.

“Huh?” Lance mumbled. “What’s this?”

Shiro glanced away from his fists. Lance leaned over Keith’s torso, now free of armor, and reached out to touch the scorched edges of the suit where the collar and upper torso of the material had been razed to nothing. Following the movement, Shiro realized he wasn’t reaching for the damaged material itself but a thin black cord visible through it, apparently tucked beneath the suit and standing in stark contrast with the angry scarlet wound.

“A necklace?” Pidge wondered.

“That’s odd,” Allura said. “I’ve never seen him wearing such a thing before.”

“Eh,” Lance said with a shrug. “Who cares? If he wears it all the time, it’s probably under his shirt like this.”

A harsh cough wracked Keith’s chest, pulling their attention back to the task. Everyone stumbled to their feet and Hunk shifted to crouch by Keith’s shoulder. He slid his arm under his waist and gingerly picking him off the ground. As Hunk pulled one of Keith’s arms around his own neck to help keep him upright, the boy slumped forward slightly. The cord around his neck swung out, and something slender and metallic glinted in the ship’s light. 

Shiro took a step back, but the floor seemed to fall out from beneath him.

“It’s a ring?” Pidge said, leaning in to get a closer look.

“A ring?” Allura echoed. She frowned at the object. “Is it not custom for you humans to wear rings on your fingers?”

“They are, normally,” Pidge assured her. “But sometimes people wear them on necklaces instead, usually if they use their hands a lot but want to keep the ring with them.”

“Can we talk about it after we get him in a healing pod?” Hunk suggested, casting an uneasy look at the paladin draped over his side. He was barely breathing, shoulders twitching feebly, and he’d lost all strength to keep his eyes open. He already looked dead.

“Of course,” Allura said. 

She spun on her heel and activated the nearest pod, stepping aside as the doors slid open so that Hunk could situate Keith inside. He looked like a museum exhibit, displayed from a transparent case. Were it not for the screen that flickered to life when the doors closed, monitoring his vitals, he could have been mistaken for a very beat-up mannequin. The ring glinted against his chest.

“It’s pretty common for people to wear their spouse’s wedding ring on a chain if they die, isn’t it?” Lance wondered. “Are we supposed to assume Keith was  _ married _ ? Because wow, do I feel terrible for whoever had to deal with--”

“It’s not a wedding ring,” Pidge interrupted. “It’s not the right style, he’s too young, and besides, wedding rings are usually gold. I don’t know what metal this is.”

“It’s damascus steel.”

Everyone looked around at Shiro, but his eyes were fixed on the ring dangling from Keith’s throat. The pattern, unique to that kind of metal, twisted and warped across the surface of the ring, reminiscent of oil on water. The effect came from forging iron and steel together, and was more commonly used in medieval ages for knives and swords. An unusual metal for a ring, to be sure. It wasn’t hard to get a hold of, though, and it was the perfect material for Keith: strange, uncommon, but durable, as its history of creating weapons attested to.

“How can you tell?” Hunk wondered. “It does kind of look like it, but without scanning it, it’d be tough to be sure. And why would Keith have a ring made out of damascus steel?”

Shiro couldn’t answer. Thoughts, pictures, scenes were flashing across his mind, blinking in and out too fast for him to focus on any one of them. Fear seized him, seized him as it did whenever flashes of memory returned to him, flinging him back in time and leaving him to muddle his way back, but this wasn’t like those other memories. There was no Galra ship in these thoughts, no druids or gladiators leering at him. 

They were only broken pieces, mere suggestions of things that might have been, but they were too much, too much. A hand in his, fingers slim but calloused, palm covered by leather that had been worn soft. A genius student, scores notably higher than the rest of his class, sitting alone in the mess hall. A lean body tucked against his side, poorly cut black hair tickling his neck. Hands on shoulders and quiet encouragements. Soft kisses, whispers of lips brushing against each other and hands on his shoulders, in his hair. A dimly lit room, empty but for two, and honesty that laid one bare before the other as an orphan, a truth he never shared. A ring sliding onto his finger, soft and cool, and another beneath his touch but not for him.

Shiro knew without measuring that the ring was a size 9. Knew without looking that there was an inscription inside it, short and simple in unassuming script. Knew, without looking, that the promise written in it was fulfilled but too late, a year and a lifetime too late.

_ I will always come home _

Beneath him, his knees buckled. Vaguely he was aware of someone crying out, but he wasn’t paying attention. He landed on the floor painfully hard and barely noticed, waves of memories crashing over him, threatening to sweep him up and away, threatening to drown him.

_ Why?  _ he wondered, still staring.  _ Why didn’t he ever say anything? _

He thought he’d remembered. When he opened his eyes and saw Keith instead of the doctors that put him under, the way his heart leapt had made sense. He’d been thrilled to see his old friend again after so long, thrilled to see a familiar face after the hell he’d had to endure that he scarcely remembered, thrilled simply to have made it back at last. Now he wondered if there had been more to it. Had his heart nearly jumped from his chest because somewhere, somewhere deep down, buried beneath all of the trauma, all the pain and the fear, it remembered just  _ how _ precious Keith was?

“Shiro!”

He screwed his eyes shut, trying to focus. Getting swept into the currents and eddies of his murky past was always stressful, but never before because he wanted to explore them. He needed to anchor himself in the now, he knew that, but it was difficult. Usually if he fell into a fit of remembrance Keith was there to bring him back, but this time Keith was part of the past that was clinging to him, and he needed to free himself. Needed to find the Keith that was there, now, wounded and healing with no idea that Shiro knew.

“I’m fine,” he said gruffly, brushing aside the hands gripping his arms.

“You don’t  _ look _ fine,” Lance said. 

“Shiro, were you injured in the battle?” Allura asked sternly. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m  _ fine _ ,” Shiro repeated. 

He ran a hand over his face and looked around, finding that the others had surrounded him in varying states of concern. Hunk in particular looked like he was about to keel over from stress, but when he made eye contact with Shiro his shoulders relaxed somewhat.

“I just--just remembered…some things.”

Excitement sparked among the others, but he shook his head before they could ask him anything.

“Nothing about the Galra,” he said. “It’s--it’s nothing. I’m fine.”

He received several shrewd looks, but Hunk offered him a hand that he gladly accepted, rising back to his feet and trying not to look like he’d nearly fainted. Pidge was the first to leave, having seen their friend into the healing pod and declaring that they were going to do some maintenance on Green. Lance was next, yawning and massaging a crick in his neck, followed closely by Hunk, who cast Shiro one more concerned look before disappearing into the corridor.

There was a gaze burning a hole in the side of his head. He didn’t dare look at Allura, hoping that if he ignored her for long enough she would give up out of frustration. Arms crossed, he stood in front of the healing pod and avidly studied the opposite wall.

“Shiro.”

_ Well, a guy can dream _ .

“Yes, Princess?” he sighed, turning to meet her gaze.

A lump rose in his throat at the look on her face. It was gentle, understanding even, lips turned up very slightly and her eyes crinkled a little at the corners. She held out a hand and touched Shiro’s cheek.

“You remember that ring, don’t you?” she asked.

Shiro tried and failed to swallow. 

“How…” he croaked. “Why would you think that?”

She looked over at Keith and her fingers fell from Shiro’s face to her side. 

“Because he told me what it was once,” she answered. “I found him in the training room in the middle of the night and saw it.”

“But you--just now, you were so confused,” Shiro said, frowning. Allura’s smile grew.

“I promised Keith I wouldn’t tell the other paladins,” she said. “It might...complicate matters if they knew I knew. It was easiest just to feign ignorance.”

“I see…” Shiro mused. “How did you convince Keith to tell you?”

“I didn’t,” she said. “He was...shall we say,  _ frustrated _ with his circumstances. I’m sure you already know this, but despite the reserve he tries to show, he’s a very social creature at his core, and incredibly expressive. He just doesn’t always know how to show that. He wanted somebody to confide in, and I was the lucky one to find him when he was in a sharing mood.”

They lapsed into silence, both looking at the young man entombed in glass.

“He’s missed you,” Allura murmured, so quietly Shiro almost didn’t hear her. “Quite terribly.”

“I--” Shiro starts, but chokes on his own words.

_ I know _ . But he hadn’t.

_ I missed him too. _ But he hadn’t even remembered. He hadn’t  _ known _ to miss him, to miss  _ them _ .

_ I’m sorry. _ Keith would kill him if he apologized for forgetting. He’d say that it was out of Shiro’s control, whether Shiro agreed or not.

So he stayed silent, looking at his friend who had been so much more than just a friend, blinking back tears and wondering if it was too late, hoping that it wasn’t. Too late to fix it, too late to go back, too late to regain what they’d lost. Keith had carried a lot of weight on his shoulders, borne a lot of pain, and he had done it in silence before Shiro. Shiro had unwittingly added to that burden, but maybe he could offer to share it. Even now, maybe they could have a chance. If it wasn’t too late.

“Coran and I slept for ten thousand years,” Allura said, and her hand found Shiro’s. “And in those ten thousand years Altea was lost, along with countless other planets and species. Many died, and much was destroyed. My own father. My people.”

“I’m sorry, Princess,” he rasped.

“But other civilizations rose,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “Somehow many planets and many races endured. Even fought back. And the paladins of Voltron are together once more, fighting to end the war that has caused so much grief and destruction. In _ten_ _thousand_ _years_ , hope has yet to die. There may yet be a chance for the universe to see a new beginning.”

Shiro stood where she left him, barely acknowledging her parting words, and felt something hot and wet streak down his cheek. There was that ache in his chest that hadn’t left, making him feel too warm and too tight, and it seemed to unfurl like fronds in a wood throughout his body.

Despite his tears, Shiro smiled.


	3. Chapter 3

Allura was crafty. Shiro didn’t know how, nor did he _want_ to, but she managed to make sure everyone except for him was busy with chores when Keith’s healing cycle was supposed to end the next day. She had sent Hunk on a “mission” to harvest some strange food only found on a somewhat nearby planet, and he had only agreed because she promised he would be the one in charge of preparing it for dinner. Pidge was running diagnostics on all of the castle’s many, many systems, a task that they somehow didn’t seem overly thrilled about despite their love of technology. Lance was...actually, Shiro didn’t remember what Lance was supposed to be doing. Whatever it was, the blue paladin probably wasn’t actually doing it. And Allura had instructed Coran to monitor the paladins in their work, which effectively meant ordering him to leave Shiro alone.

So, as the minutes ticked by, Shiro sat alone in the med bay. He hadn’t gone to his quarters that night and had fallen asleep on the floor, leaning against the pod. When he’d woken up, it was with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and a plate of food goo on the floor beside him. The first thing he’d done was check on Keith, and a weight fell from his shoulders when he saw that the injury from the blaster was nearly nonexistent. The promise ring stood in contrast against fair skin, mottled in places by slightly pink scar tissue where it hadn’t yet finished healing.

While Shiro waited, he thought. He thought about what to say, if anything. He wondered if Keith wearing the ring on a cord meant that he hadn’t moved on or that he had. He considered not telling Keith at all because he deserved better than someone who had disappeared on him once already, someone stricken by weakness and tainted with Galra tech. He thought about how much that idea hurt.

He barely heard the beep signified the end of the healing cycle, or the rush as the liquid drained. When the pod opened up, Shiro jumped in surprise. Keith’s eyes fluttered blearily and cracked open, and when they found Shiro Keith gave a small smile.

“What’s up?” he croaked.

Shiro’s lips twitched.

“A lot of things,” he said.

Keith blinked a couple more times to bring his eyesight into better focus, running a hand over his face and hair. His first step was careful, but he left the pod upright and stable.

“How are you feeling?” Shiro said cautiously.

“Like a hamster crawled in my mouth and nested,” Keith griped. Then he looked around at the otherwise empty room. “Where’s everyone else? Are they alright?”

“They’re fine,” Shiro assured him, reaching out to settle a hand on his shoulder. “Allura’s got them doing some chores around the castle.”

“Without you?”

Shiro bit his lip, glancing away.

“She, uh,” he mumbled. “I think she wanted to give us a chance to talk. Privately.”

A frown creased Keith’s brow and tugged the corners of his lips downward.

“What about?” he wondered.

Shiro swallowed.

 _Band-aid,_ he told himself. _Just hurry up and do it._

“About this.”

His fingers slipped from Keith’s shoulder to his chest and tugged lightly on the promise ring dangling there. Keith glanced down, and the color drained from his face. Despite that, his expression was otherwise calm when he looked back up at Shiro, and the older of the two didn’t know what to make of it.

“What...what about it?” said Keith.

Shiro sighed and released the ring in favor of pushing some of Keith’s unruly hair out of his face. The boy’s breathing hitched.

“About...why you’re not wearing it on your finger,” he said. “About why you kept it all this time.”

Color leaked back into Keith’s cheeks slowly. It gave Shiro the courage to continue, to lean forward until their forehead were touching, noses almost bumping each other. Keith’s breath intermingled with his. He moved both of his hands to frame Keith’s jawline, thumbs just shy of touching his lips.

“Mostly, though,” he murmured. “About why you never even mentioned it to me.”

“Sh-Shiro, what--”

“Were you really okay with me forgetting?” Shiro demanded. “Why didn’t you even _try_ to--to remind me? Why did I have to get it from that ring instead of you?”

“Shiro, what are you--” Keith started, realization dawning in his eyes. “You--you remember--”

It may not have been the most conventional response, but Shiro thought slanting his lips over Keith’s was all the answer that was needed. Apparently, he’d thought correctly.

One of Keith’s hands caught Shiro’s forearm reflexively, but he didn’t pull away. His other hand curled around Shiro’s waist, tugging him closer, and Shiro went easily. It wasn’t the first time it had happened, but the echoes that he’d only just remembered were like faded photographs, not preparing him for the real thing, and it might as well have been the first kiss. With Keith pressed against him, a low hum resonating in the back of his throat, Shiro felt as overwhelmed as an inexperienced adolescent.

It was warm and soft, lending a kind of comfort that Shiro remembered like a dream, and the tighter he held Keith the less real it felt. And when Keith clung to him, nails scraping against his scalp and fingers tightening around his arm, he guessed Keith felt the same. He felt the safety of home for the first time since the day he left for the Kerberos mission.

Then he tasted salt and leaned back. Keith’s eyes blinked open at the loss of contact, and they were damp with tears. Hastily he reclaimed one of his hands to swipe at the trails of moisture streaking his cheeks. Shiro chuckled quietly and leaned in to kiss each eyelid in turn.

“Happy tears?” he checked, touching their foreheads again.

“Yeah,” Keith said hoarsely.

He sighed and hid his face in Shiro’s shoulder. Smiling, Shiro raised a hand to rub soothing circles between his shoulder blades and slid his other arm around his waist.

Shiro didn’t worry about what to say. He didn’t try to apologize or take responsibility for what had happened. Something he and Keith both agreed on was that the past could be learned from and the future could be planned, but ultimately the present was more important. Right now, Keith wasn’t upset with Shiro for what happened and right now, Shiro wasn’t wondering what to do next.

“Y’know, I don’t know if this ring is appropriate anymore,” Shiro said after a moment.

“Why’s that?” Keith said, turning his head so that his voice wasn’t muffled in Shiro’s shirt. “You bailing on me now?”

Shiro reached up and caught it between his fingers, fiddling with it as he thought.

“Maybe _appropriate_ isn’t the right word,” he amended. “Just...it’s pretty simple, isn’t it?”

“What’s wrong with simple?”

“Nothing. I’m just wondering…”

“Yeah?”

“Is it enough?”

Keith leaned back to look at him, confusion etched on every line of his face. Allura hadn’t been wrong; Keith was incredibly expressive, even if he didn’t realize it. With a smile, Shiro lifted a hand to Keith’s cheek again, thumb stroking the corner of his mouth.

“I feel like you could make a dozen promise rings and think it’s not enough,” Keith muttered. “I’m just glad to have you back. That’s more than enough for me.”

“I believe you,” Shiro laughed. “And I think you’re probably right. I want to promise you everything--give you everything. But I’d need more than a promise ring to do that.”

A look of dawning comprehension gleamed in Keith’s eyes, and his lips curved up in a slow smile.

“You’re a sap,” he accused as he wrapped his arms around Shiro’s neck.

“Maybe,” Shiro admitted, bowing his head until he was smiling against Keith’s lips. “You love it, though.”

Keith laughed.

“Yeah, I kinda do.”

Their lips had only just met when they were jerking apart with harmonized shouts of surprise, whipping around at the sound of muffled laughter. The other paladins, as well as Allura and Coran, were huddled in the doorway, riveted on the scene, and Pidge and Lance were covering their mouths with their hands in failed attempts to remain silent. Upon realizing they were busted, the two gave up their attempts and howled unabashedly.

“You guys are gross,” Pidge snorted. Lance tried to say something, but in his mirth he was completely incoherent.

“I thought it was cute,” Hunk mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. At the look on Keith’s face he hastily raised his hands in surrender. “Hey, it wasn’t my idea. They dragged me into it.”

“Allura?” Shiro prompted, eyebrow raised. “What happened to those chores you told me about?”

Allura smiled shamelessly. At her shoulder, Coran was blubbering and blowing his nose in an embroidered handkerchief.

“This just seemed so much more interesting,” she said with an elegant shrug. “If you’d like, we can leave the two of you alone now.”

“Oh come on,” Pidge scoffed. “They can go to one of their rooms--the med bay is a public space.”

“You’ll just listen outside the door anyway, so what’s it matter where we are?” Keith challenged.

Pidge grinned at him and ducked into the hall, chirping something about recalibrating Red after the beating she’d taken in the fight. Hunk jerked back and fell out of sight, and though nobody saw what happened, they were all fairly certain that Pidge had yanked him after them. Still chortling, Lance departed.

“You know,” Coran said, sniffling. “I know some lovely jewelers in the next solar system. We could make a quick trip that way and you could--”

Allura rammed an elbow into his side to silence him, then with a cheery wave she grabbed him by the elbow and scurried away.

“I have a feeling we’re going to be getting that a lot,” Shiro chuckled.

Keith just rolled his eyes and moved in to finish what they had started.

“I’m glad you remember,” Keith whispered against his cheek.

“Me too, Keith,” Shiro answered, heart swelling as he turned to cover Keith’s mouth again. “Me too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...might've gotten a little sappy/OOC...but hell it was fun and cute. Also first Voltron fic, so there's that...  
> Constructive criticism is always welcome, just don't be a dick


End file.
